Filling My Well

Saturday, I had the honor and pleasure of being playwright/dramaturg Kim Euell’s +1 for one of the final performances of FLEX at Lincoln Center. I met Kim over zoom in January when she taught one of the winter intensive workshops with the writing program I volunteer with, but I was super surprised when she emailed to offer me a ticket. Such a kind and generous gift! FLEX‘s playwright, Candrice Jones, is an alum of that same writing program. She was writing this play while in Kim’s summer workshop a few years ago … and here it is, on stage at Lincoln Center, which is a stunning debut!

I fell in love with all of the young women in the cast. I’m also a superfan of set design, props, and staging, and I fell in love with those aspects of the show, too. Such a spare set, and add-ons that brought every scene to life.

I’m not a playwright, and don’t see writing plays as something I’ll ever really explore (despite writing – in my last year of high school – Snow Purple, a “true telling” of Snow White). But comics scripts – at least the way I write them, pull a lot from this form. Seeing FLEX reminded me that I need to watch more plays, read more plays, start building the muscles that carry over to comics. Because no, I haven’t forgotten about my comics. I’m still determined to make that project a real thing. I drift away because I convince myself that I don’t have the skills to get through it … and then I drift back because I really want to do it.

(Today, a woman I have become friendly with posted on FB about starting to learn about comics and her now goal of a graphic memoir, which made me so happy. A few comments later, and we were offering to share work with one another, which pleased me enormously. I’ll be looking forward to when we both have work to exchange.)

Seeing FLEX and meeting and talking with Kim fall into the category of “Artist Date,” one of the few practices I maintain from The Artist’s Way. And, while I have issues with Cameron’s book, artist dates — the idea that I have to fill my creative well by giving myself time to take in art/music/beauty/nature to support my writing and artwork — resonates with me. I don’t always give myself time for artist dates (something I need to change), but this past week has been rich with them. I had lunch on Wednesday with a writer friend and her children, which was totally soul-filling. She is someone who has a kind of belief in me that I hope to develop in myself. Last night I had dinner with another writer friend who pushes me to push myself. And tonight I have a writing date with yet another writer friend, a young woman whose energy, talent, and ferocity inspire me.

How do you feed your creative self? Do you take yourself on artist dates, fill your well with inspiration? Who’s on your cheer squad pushing you forward? How do you cheer and push yourself forward?

tellmetale

Tonight is the second night of How to Build a Fire, Season 9. HTBAF is a storytelling showcase started by poet Terence Degnan and held at an art gallery in Brooklyn. I had the pleasure of co-hosting Season 6 (the 2019 to 2020 season, the year we went virtual in the middle of the season). And now I’ve been given the gift of co-hosting again!

It should come as absolutely no surprise to anyone that I like telling stories … I am, after all, the keeper of about 47 gazillion anecdotes, a story (or thirty) for every possible situation. But I don’t only like to tell stories. I love listening to them, too. When Terence talks about the creation of HTBAF, he talks about the campfire, of sitting together in a circle of warm light sharing pieces of ourselves, sharing ideas, sharing.

And so, HTBAF. We don’t sit around a campfire, but we do gather in a warm and welcoming space and share stories. I’ve heard some amazing stories in this series, and I’m so looking forward to all the stories I’ll be hearing this season.

For tonight’s event, I invited two wonderful women to share their stories. Lisa Jean Moore – sociology professor and author of such books as Catch and Release: The Enduring Yet Vulnerable Horseshoe Crab and Buzz: Urban Beekeeping and the Power of the Bee (written with Mary Kosut). She’s also my former landlord and a generally excellent person. And the gorgeous, activist, creative, and delightful Substantia Jones, creator of The Adipositivity Project, one of the best things in the world. Substantia is also a generally excellent person. One of the ways that she’s excellent for me right now is that she has been encouraging me to come out of my little Covid-safe cocoon and spend more time in public. For this, I am enormously grateful.

My co-host, comedian Lana Siebel, also invited to fabulous women to share stories. That’s the format: two hosts, two storytellers each, four 15-minute stories, one lovely evening.

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Random Moment Generator

Walking to the train this morning, I saw a young-ish Black man in a parka outside the dollar store. His hood was up against tye wind, and he was hunched over trying to light his cigarette. He looked up and looked me in the eye then went back to his task. At the curb was a man half in the backseat of his car, putting his child in a safety seat. As I approached, the cigarette man stood straight and pointed toward the car. 

“Miss! You see him, Miss? He’s a good dude. He’s a father taking care of his kid.”

I looked over at the car then nodded at the cigarette man. “Alright,” I said. And the man nodded and gave me a Black Power salute. I kept walking to the station.

So first, let’s address how pleased my vanity was by that “Miss.” These days, if anyone’s bothering to give me an honorific, it’s “Ma’am.” And there’s nothing wrong with that … except that it makes me feel like Methuselah’s older sister. So “Miss” felt like a kind nod to my long-past youth, and I liked it.

Second, that Black Power salute. It charmed and amused me. This was hardly a situation in which I’d have expected such a thing to happen. It was so unexpected, it kind of lit the moment up for me. I know there is still a lingering belief that a Black woman with natural hair must be all about the struggle or some such. I’m not saying I’m not, but those leanings aren’t determined or identifiable by my hair, and I wasn’t expecting the nod to that possible common cause in that exact moment. 

But then to the meat of the matter. What was that? It was interesting, and even cute, but … what? Why point out the man putting his kid in the car? Why draw a stranger’s attention to this pretty regular thing? 

I like random things, generally speaking. I particularly like random pleasant moments with strangers on the street. Those moments fall into the category of things I love about living in my city (and are cross-posted under “things I like about interacting with strangers in any city”). I have a lot of these moments. A lot. My sister would say that it’s because of my face, that my face tells people that I will respond if they talk to me. I don’t know if that’s always so true these days, but I guess it’s true enough given how often strangers talk to me. My face is a random moment generator, sparking curious encounters everywhere it goes.

This particular encounter was more random than usual. A good dude, indeed. Had me smiling and shaking my head all the way downtown. 

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A Little Bit of New

A coworker’s daughter is a Girl Scout, and for the last few years, I’ve bought a few boxes from her. I’ve been a GS Cookie fan for … seemingly my whole life. It used to be Thin Mints only, but I feel for the Tagalongs when they were added to the mix. And then Lemon Ups came along and I had to scale back on the others so I could add their lemon-frosted shortbread goodness to the lineup.

This year, the Scouts have a new cookie: the Raspberry Rally. (Who thinks of these names? I have questions.) The Rally is, apparently, made in the Thin Mint model. It’s a raspberry cookie that’s coated in chocolate. I don’t know if it’s something I’d like — though my colleague said she got to do a taste test and thought it was delicious — but I was curious and thought I’d order a box.

But no! The Raspberry Rallies are already sold out! WHAT?! Sales only just started. I call foul. Sigh.

I buy from my coworker’s little girl, and I buy a couple of boxes from Troop 6000, the troop that was created for girls living in the New York City shelter system. I’ve never lived in a shelter. I taught a GED class in a family shelter more than half my life ago, though, and Troop 6000 made me think about the daughters of my students.

Troop 6000 offers weekly meetings across the city. Girls get uniforms, materials, and trips for free and can remain in the group if they change shelters. There’s now also a Troop 6000 Transition Initiative that works with families as they move into permanent housing. My students’ daughters would have benefitted from an opportunity like the ones Troop 6000 creates. Do the Boy Scouts have a Troop 6000? A quick Google search says no, but I hope that’s not true. Little boys in the shelter system need consistency and carefree camaraderie, too.

Full disclosure: I never wanted to be a Girl Scout. I very specifically didn’t want to be a Girl Scout. I was deep in my feelings about it, adamant that I wouldn’t join a group that required me to be called a Brownie. Yes, at eight or nine years old, I put my foot down about it. Would not join. So silly, really, but my mother worked with my silliness. She founded a troop of Campfire Girls so I could still experience the badge-earning joys of group membership.

This morning, I went online to place my Troop 6000 order … and found Raspberry Rallies in stock! So now I have two cookie orders on the way: my Mint-Tag-Lemon order and a new Lemon-Raspberry order. (Yes, doubling up on the Lemon Ups. They’re just so good with coffee.)

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It’s Day One the 16th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
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Gratitude

I’m in Alaska at my writing residency. It’s lovely here, and I feel extraordinarily lucky to be here. My tourist day in town — the day before I came up to the residency itself — was studded with random moments when I’d be walking around and suddenly “Thank you,” would just bubble out of me. Out loud. Literally just saying it aloud as I walked on the beach, as I stood in the museum, as I sipped mead, as I stared up at the mountains. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve never had gratitude burst out of me before. It’s a curious feeling. I’d like to experience it some more!

I’m here to write. I’m here, most specifically, to work on “Fat Talk” essays. I am determined to shape that series into a collection. And, while I haven’t been away from the project for long, I kind of have, too. I did some writing in November, but never cleaned it up and posted it. I’ve been thinking about the project, but haven’t gotten any words on paper.

So these two weeks are time to pull this project back to the front of my brain and see what’s what.

And that’s hard and stressful because a lot of what I want to write about it hard and stressful. Having to put into words the ways in which I have been mistreated is hard. Having to put into words the ways in which I have mistreated myself is harder. It’s good to be here to do this. To have time and silence to push through the rough pieces. To have a group of writers to sit with at dinner and feel embraced and heard. This. THis is why “thank you” just kept bubbling out of me on Saturday. The understanding and anticipation of the gift of this

I came up a day early so that I could recover from a 20-hour travel day and play tourist in Homer for a minute. I wish I could have come up a full week early. I enjoyed my day of wandering in the cold and rain, however. I was exhausted — arrived at 7:30 in the morning but couldn’t check into the hotel until 5, so I had to stay awake and do something all day. And I did. Walked on the beach, stared at the mountains, had a really good omelet, went to the very excellent and inspiring Pratt Museum — if you’re going to be in Homer, for-sure visit the Pratt. It’s small and lovely. After the museum, I walked over to the Sweetgale Meadworks to try mead for the first time. I sampled all the meads ( 😉 ) and even got pics of a visiting moose before it was time to head to the hotel. On the drive to the hotel, we passed a coffee klatch of bald eagles — six of them just hanging out on the beach. And then I discovered that I’m not too early for late daylight! I thought I’d miss the whole midnight sun extravaganza … and I will, but the sun sets after 10pm right now, so daylight just goes on and on. It’s magical.

Here are some pics from the last few days:

My first good look at Kachemak Bay, taken from the back deck of the hotel where I stayed the first night.

The flights of meads I sampled. The flight on the left had my favorites: Sweetgale, Nagoonberry, and Wildflower.

One of the two moose who came by the meadery as I was sipping mead.

The view from my hotel room … at about 9pm. Crazypants that it was still this bright out!

Hanging out at the Salty Dawg Saloon before heading out to the residency. (That Stella Cidre was good stuff!)

A piece of the view from my cabin window here at the residency. That’s Cook Inlet.

A mated pair of Sandhill Cranes who were hanging around outside the main house when I walked up for breakfast yesterday.

And now it’s time to get back to work! ❤

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